


Riches and Wonders

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-05
Updated: 2007-04-05
Packaged: 2018-09-03 20:25:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8728927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: DTTE-verse, set far in the future, probably slightly before "Happy Future Drabble."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**Riches and Wonders**  
Sam/Dean, 1,027 words  
  
**Notes:** [ DTTE-verse](http://esorlehcar.livejournal.com/445945.html#dtte), set far in the future, probably slightly before [ this](http://esorlehcar.livejournal.com/375893.html#cutid1). Grossly self-indulgent and unbetaed to boot.  
  
  
  
_we are filled with riches and wonders  
our love keeps the things it finds.  
and we dance like drunken sailors,   
lost at sea out of our minds.  
you find shelter somewhere in me,  
I find great comfort in you.  
and I keep you safe from harm.  
you hold me in your arms, and I want to go home.  
but I am home_  
— _Riches and Wonders_ , The Mountain Goats  
  
  
He wakes to the sound of rain against the windows and his brother's mouth sucking lightly at his nipple. The bed is warm, and Sam's lean body pressed against his is warmer; he's in no hurry to start the day, even for sex, but Sam's low chuckle tells him plainly that playing possum is useless.   
  
"Morning," Sam murmurs.   
  
"I was sleeping," Dean complains, but Sam ignores him, licking firmly until Dean sighs softly. Sam hums, pleased, and moves to the other nipple, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. Dean cups the back of his head, pressing down, and Sam takes the hint, latches on and sucks hard. It feels amazing -- it always feels amazing -- and Dean groans happily. He lets Sam play for long minutes, his eyes falling shut again as he drifts, arousal building, slow and sleepy and without a hint of urgency, as he cards his fingers through his brother's hair.   
  
He's nearly asleep again by the time Sam slides two thick fingers into his hole, still stretched and lubed from the night before, but Sam means business, finding his prostate and stroking skillfully, and he jerks back to full consciousness with a gasp.   
  
"Shit, Sammy, warn a guy..."  
  
"I want to fuck you," Sam says, and Dean thinks vaguely that he should protest, tell Sam that it's his goddamn turn to be the bitch, but Sam twists his fingers sharply and he can't do anything but moan. Sam adds another, pulls all three nearly out and then shoves them back in hard, and Dean gasps again, arching his hips into Sam's touch as Sam fucks him with his fingers. "Love you like this," Sam says. "Barely awake, fucked out from last night but still desperate--"  
  
Dean groans, more annoyance at Sam in chick-flick mode than lust. "Am I gonna get fucked any time soon?"  
  
Sam pulls his fingers out, sinks his teeth into Dean's chest. "Ask nicely," he says.  
  
Dean glares. "You're a smug bastard, you know that?"   
  
"So I've been told," Sam says, but he's already moving between Dean's thighs, spreading them apart. "You want my cock, Dean?" He wraps a hand around Dean's dick, stroking lightly, and Dean bites his lip to keep from moaning.   
  
"I want you to shut up and get to work," he grits out.  
  
Sam laughs, low and rough, but he finally presses forward, grabs Dean's hips in his hands and slides in, agonizingly slow. Dean wraps his legs around his brother's waist, bracing himself for the first hard thrust, but it doesn't come, and after a moment he jerks his hips forward, striving for friction. "Hurry the fuck up," he bites out, tightening down hard around Sam's dick.  
  
Sam gasps, but he stays still. "Ask me," he says again, and Dean loses the last of his patience.  
  
"Fuck me, bitch, or I'll feed you to the next hell hound I find," he snarls, and squeezes down again before Sam can voice whatever smart-ass comment he's planning, smiling triumphantly when Sam's breath hitches.  
  
"I guess that's -- _god_ \-- close enough," Sam groans, and pulls back before slamming in hard. "Jerk," he adds, and Dean laughs breathlessly as they find their rhythm, moving together with practiced ease.   
  
He loves this, the stretch and burn of Sam's cock, the pleasure intimately familiar and new every time. Loves his own cock rubbing against the wiry hair on Sam's belly, the look of fierce concentration on Sam's face as he fights to keep his eyes open, to watch Dean's face as he breaks him apart. Loves the way Sam gasps when he twists his hips just right, the way the hard muscles in his back and shoulders shift under Dean's fingers. Loves the thrill of possession, the sharp and overwhelming sense of _belonging_ that surges up every time Sam is inside him. "Fuck, Sammy," he says, and Sam groans and moves faster.  
  
"I... _am_ ," he says, and then, "Oh, god, Dean," and Dean can hear the strain in his voice, feel his body tense. He wraps a hand around Dean's cock and jerks roughly, grates out, "Hurry up, I can't--" and then he's coming with a loud grunt, hips jerking out of rhythm as his dick shudders inside Dean. He keeps thrusting, hand tightening around Dean's dick to the point of pain, and Dean cries out as he spills across Sam's hand.  
  
Dean can't help the little moan of loss as Sam slips of him when he rolls off, panting. "Shit," he says, and Sam laughs, presses tightly against Dean's side and drags two fingers through the mess on his belly.  
  
"Good?" he asks, smugness back in place.  
  
"I've had better," Dean says, though his voice is still too rough to really pull off the disinterest.  
  
Sam laughs again and bites at his collarbone. He lifts his hand, still smeared with Dean's come, to his mouth, and licks it clean, then scoops more stickiness from Dean's belly and presses it to Dean's lips. "Suck," he says, and Dean opens his mouth eagerly, licks and sucks hungrily at Sam's fingers, marveling for the thousandth time at his taste, so exactly like Sam's. Sam's eyes darken as Dean's tongue works, and he moans softly, yanks his hand away and kisses Dean for the first time since they woke. "So good," he murmurs, and this time it's not a question.  
  
"Sammy," Dean whispers, and Sam kisses him again, deep and slow and sweeter than honey.  
  
"It's Sunday," Sam says when they finally break apart. He presses himself firmly against Dean's side, resting his head on Dean's shoulder.  
  
"So?" Dean says.  
  
"So it's Sunday," Sam says. He nuzzles into Dean's neck, bites down gently. "And there's nowhere else we have to be."  
  
"So what you're saying is you could have let me fucking sleep."  
  
Sam grins. "I'm saying I want to know how many times I can make you come if we stay in bed all day, but if you need to nap, old man..."  
  
"You're going to pay for that," Dean growls, and Sam smiles wider.  
  
"I'm counting on it," he says, and takes Dean's mouth again.


End file.
